Eating Indian Food
She looked closely at Debbie’s smiling face then seemed to sniff the air. As she took the bags, I overheard her whisper to Debbie, “I don’t know what you had time to do, but it seems to have agreed with you.” Debbie replied with a broad grin, “It sure did.” During the next few hours, Debbie and I milled around the party eating, drinking, and chatting with the other guests. Every now and then someone we were speaking with would sniff the air and give us a strange look. Finally, Debbie squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear, “Can we go now? This being a slut is getting a bit old. Our cum has been running down my legs making my thighs sticky as hell, and I smell bad. I’d really like to use your shower now if you don’t mind.” I agreed, “Sure Baby. Let’s go. I could probably use a shower myself.” We said our goodbyes to our hosts and headed for my place. On the way Debbie cuddled close to me and laid her head on my shoulder. She softly said, “When we get to your place, I hope we can. The odd, accented speech patterns. Left handed. Nosing around the fringes of Kiryas Square.I had ambushed Grunwald in the parking lot for Katz’s Deli near downtown Trenton, New Jersey. He was alone, vigorously implementing a toothpick. I was parked beside an old Buick he was driving today. Head-to-tail, our driver’s side windows next to each other. Like cops park.He put the card in the front pocket of his dark suit jacket without looking at it. “Not this week, Blondie, full cal.”“Let me know.” I drove off; under a minute for the encounter.Dixie Wexler came for me at 8:07 Monday morning. I had parked my red F-150 in my usual spot in the private lot by the Exchange Building. Feeling a bit pleased with myself, virtuous, for arriving at work before 9. Coffee in my right hand, a white-bagged croissant and keys in my left. Croissant aroma mixed with melted butter wafted up toward me.Not much pedestrian traffic in the Stockyards this early. I waved at an office neighbor entering the.
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